


I'm glad you're alive

by EvenBirdsNeedToLearnHowToFly



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Tower, Ceiling Vent Clint Barton, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Deaf Clint Barton, Gen, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Brainwashing, Post-Battle of New York (Marvel), Protective Phil Coulson, Strike Team Delta (Marvel), Worried Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28406811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvenBirdsNeedToLearnHowToFly/pseuds/EvenBirdsNeedToLearnHowToFly
Summary: DeadThat one word echoed around his head, spinning his thoughts and making the dry meat he had choked down sit uncomfortably in his stomach. He felt lightheaded, his vision narrowing down as he fought to keep his breathing steady. He was an imposter, sat at a table with superheroes. People with suits and serums. Gods.orClint knew Natasha wasn't telling him something. But it was only when Tony brought up Coulson at the Shwarma table that he realised just what she wasn't saying. 6 months later, the two assassins get an unexpected call. It's Phil.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been up on fanfiction for a while now but as I'm in the process of overhauling it I decided to post it over here as well. Trigger warnings for language and implied past suicide attempts. Chapters 1 and 2 will be up today and chapter 3 should be up before the 7th Jan. Enjoy and as usual, I do not own marvel nor the characters,

Dead

That one word echoed around his head, spinning his thoughts and making the dry meat he had choked down sit uncomfortably in his stomach. He felt lightheaded, his vision narrowing down as he fought to keep his breathing steady. He was an imposter, sat at a table with superheroes. People with suits and serums. Gods. He didn’t belong there, he wasn’t a hero, he wasn’t even a good person. He was a murderer, a villain, he had helped a war criminal for Christ’s sake. He had murdered Coulson. Coulson was dead. He couldn’t think, his thoughts tangling up and clouding his vision. He needed out of there, he needed to leave. He pushed back his chair with such force that it clattered to the tiled floor, eliciting surprised yells from around the table. He pushed past Banner, shoving off hands that tried to grab him as he raced out of the shawarma restaurant. 

He ran until he was lightheaded and dizzy, choking back a sob as he gracelessly leant against a bin tucked into an alley. He had only gone for a few blocks and yet the world span around him. His legs gave way and he collapsed on the floor, staying sitting mostly due to the cold metal of the bin on his back. He felt shaky, he didn’t know how long it had been since he last ate something, but his body wasn’t happy about it. The noise of the city, the chaos and destruction that he had helped quieted as he ripped his hearing aids out, throwing them against the wall opposite him. They simply bounced, built for field resistance as they contained both his comms and hearing aids and, knowing that he would never hear his handler’s voice coming through them again, he had the sudden and irrational urge to destroy them, wreck them as he had the city and the lives of countless people, both S.H.I.E.L.D. and civilian. 

An unwelcome flash of red alerted him to his partners presence as he whipped his head round, bringing his hand up to scrub away the tear tracks he knew would be staining his face. She glanced around the alley upon entering, spying his hearing aids lying near a puddle and walked over to them, scooping them up in her petite hands. She handed them to him with a pointed look and only relented when he reached out, carefully positioning them in his already irritated ears. She sat down next to him, reaching for his calloused hand.

“I – was it – did I?” He attempted to stammer out his question only to be cut off abruptly.

“No. It wasn’t you, Loki did it himself. But Clint you can’t do that to yourself.” Thanking the Gods for that one small mercy he bitterly smiled at his friend. 

“Nat. I did it, I killed all those people. I shot them without a moment of hesitation, I didn’t think twice about letting Loki onto the Helicarrier. I’ve got no one to blame but myself. I might not have done it directly but Loki could have never got near him if it was for me. I killed him. I killed Phil. Why are you not mad at me?! Be mad at me! I’m mad at me!” His voice steadily rose until he was shouting at his partner, voice cracking and deep with grief as he pushed off the floor, swaying unsteadily with fire in his eyes. 

Her hands shot out to steady him, leaning him back against the bin as his anger faded. He looked at his hands and tried to choke back the tears that once again threatened to overwhelm him. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice was raw but steady, his eyes still steadfastly refusing to meet his partners. She sighed, relaxing back down next to him and grimacing as the movement pulled at the injuries he knew she had hidden under her catsuit. 

“It wasn't you, Clint. You weren't in control and you didn't know what you were doing.” She waited for a second before speaking again, her voice hesitant. “Do you remember it?”

He scoffed. “Every last second. Watching as I hurt and tortured, as I shot at Maria and Fury. Recruited S.H.I.E.L.D.’s enemies and helped them plot to bring you all down. Screaming to be let out but being chained down by his magic.”

“Clint, look at me.” He did. Her eyes were glistening, the lights of the street in the slowly setting dusk reflecting off them even as she weakly smiled at him. “But you were fighting it. That's what makes you a good person. You saw what you were doing, and you fought to stop it. And it worked Clint. You and I both know how paranoid Fury is, you know full well he had his vest on that day. You knew that and you still shot at his chest. Easiest shot you could have ever got, it would have been child’s play to go for his head. And with Maria, with me. You're the greatest marksman in the world, there is no way you could have missed those shots. You were fighting, and me being here is the proof.” 

Instead of answering, he looked up at her with despairing eyes. “He’s gone, Tash.” It came out as barely a whisper, choked with tears and emotion. 

“I know.” Her reply was no better, her attempts at clamping down her emotions failing as her voice betrayed her. Leaning her head on his shoulder, the two battered and bruised assassins sat in the alley surrounded by the sounds of destruction- the echoing of sirens and tell-tale sound of circling helicopters. Not grieving for the city but for their handler, their friend, for Phil.

* * *

6 months later

“Come on Nat, we’ve seen Lilo and Stitch at least 100 times at this point.” Came an exasperated voice from the kitchen, seconds before the blonde archer came into view sporting a huge bowl of popcorn.

“I am Not watching The Incredibles again. You had that on literally last week.” Natasha popped her head up over the back of the sofa, grinning at her friend, or more accurately, the popcorn.

“Pardon me for interrupting, Agents, but I believe I have something that may be of interest to you.” Jarvis spoke out, his artificial voice sounding more unsure than usual. Natasha flicked her eyes up to the ceiling, concerned over what seemed to be bothering the AI. Clint however, too wrapped up in attempting to catch popcorn in his mouth, didn’t notice.

“Ooh, have you got a movie recommendation for us, J?” His voice was slightly muffled from the mouthful of popcorn he currently had. Natasha rolled her eyes at her partners antics. 

“As a matter of fact, I do, but that is not what I wish to address you about. I have received a phone call from a man stating to be Phil Coulson and he is requesting to speak to you. He appears quite distressed and whilst I advise caution, I must say that all preliminary scans are lining up with his claims. Do you wish for me to put him through?”

The two assassins were stunned and sat in silence for a moment absorbing the information. Never did they expect to get a phone call from someone claiming to be their dead friend, let alone one who had managed to fool Jarvis. It was Clint who spoke up first.

“Are you saying you think that this is actually Phil?” The incredibility and doubt were clear in his voice.

“I am saying that the evidence is pointing overwhelmingly in that direction, yes.” 

It was Natasha that made the decision for them both. “Put them through Jarvis.” The TV screen they were both now sat in front of lit up almost immediately and the image of their meant to be dead friend followed it, causing them both to inhale in shock. 

The man was a like for like replica of Phil, a few more grey hairs, wrinkles slightly more pronounced but so overwhelmingly Phil. His face broke into a smile upon seeing them, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Hey guys.” The man spoke first, glancing at the two people on the couch as he slowly realised something was wrong. They were both staring at him, eyes wide and disbelieving rather than greeting him as he had expected. He felt a heavy weight settle in his stomach at the uneasy atmosphere but pushed on.

“Look I know you might be mad, but you know what Fury is like. I got reassigned, there was nothing I could do about it. I wanted to contact you, stay in touch somehow or meet up but he said you didn’t want to hear from me and I respect that I hurt you by allowing the transfer but I really need your help here.” His words were rushed, a slight tinge of panic in his eyes. 

He paused, the feeling in his gut worsening as their eyes only widened, Natasha’s eyebrows rising up her forehead. “Why is nobody talking?” He asked. 

“Argentina, ’96. I brought something from that market stall in Buenos Aires that I never told anyone else about. What was it?” The demand from Clint seemed to take him back, the man on the screen blinking for a moment before opening his mouth.

“I – Jesus Clint that’s a long time ago. Er – it was a little wooden hawk pendant? You brought it from the little store whilst I was getting supplies, but it never made it home. It got lost in the car crash didn’t it? Clint?” The archer had gone pale and looked like he was about to pass out. He rubbed a hand down his face and leaned closer towards the screen.

“Fuck.” He muttered, turning to Natasha. “It’s really him.” 

“Why wouldn’t it be me? I know it’s been a long time but surely you haven’t forgotten what I look like already?” His joke fell flat when he looked closer at the faces of his two agents. “Uh Guys, why wouldn’t it be me exactly? I’m starting to feel like I’m missing something here.” Clint could see the building confusion on the Phil’s face, the tells and expressions he had memorised many years ago that allowed him to read his handler like a book. 

Natasha turned to him, speaking for the first time since Jarvis put the call through. “You died, Phil.” She was frowning, her eyebrows scrunched as she looked uneasily at the screen. 

He narrowed his eyes. “Yes, for like 8 seconds. Fury told me he kept it under wraps for the battle to help bring the team together but promised me he’d told you the second they thought I’d make it. You didn’t know? You thought I was dead all this time?”” He asked.

Natasha simply gave him a look in response, a look that told him exactly how stupid she thought his question was. Clint however, pushed himself so he was sitting upright on the sofa, his face hardening as he stared incredulously at the man on the screen. 

“What the Fuck, Phil? It’s been 6 months! We thought you were dead for 6 Months! And then you just turn up here spouting some bullshit about Fury? Why haven’t you fucking called us, or you know, let us know that you’re Not Actually Dead?!” Natasha attempted to put a calming hand on his shoulder that he just shrugged off, staring intently at the TV. 

“I am so sorry Clint. I thought you knew and just didn’t want anything to do with me, I didn’t want to push you when you were still mad at me. But er, Surprise?” He knew it was the wrong thing to say the second it came out of his mouth

“Surprise?! Fucking surprise, Phil?!” He shouted the words at his former handler, taking pleasure in the wince that crossed his eyes when he realised what he’d said. 

“And you ‘thought we knew??’” His voice turned mocking as he continued his rant. “You didn’t think to, you know, check in? See how we were doing? And in what universe do you think I could go 6 months without contacting you? Even if I Did know and I Was mad, you know I wouldn’t be able to stay silent that long. I can’t fucking believe you.” Shaking off Natasha once again, he stormed from the room ignoring the cries for him to wait from the other man. 

An awkward silence hung in the room as Natasha looked back towards the screen, the sharp bite of her partners anger still lingering in the air as she heard the door leading to the elevator slam, leaving her alone on his floor. 

“I'm going to kill Fury.” Muttered a despairing Coulson, resting his head on a desk. 

“Afraid you're going to have to get in line for that.” Natasha could feel a swirling mess of emotions bubbling, threatening to rise up and spill over but she shoved them down. One of them had to be the rational one and apparently that duty fell to her today. 

Coulson grimaced. “How has he been?” His voice was hesitant, almost as if he didn’t want to know the answer. 

“Not good.” She answered grimly. “I – he’s been blaming himself, Phil. You know what he’s like. He was a mess at first, moving in here helped, a lot of people at S.H.I.E.L.D. were blaming him for what he did and it really wasn’t helping so when Tony decided he wanted a collection of superheroes in his tower it was for the best really. He’s only just been allowed back in the field. He kept failing psyche tests, spent more time on suicide watch than off it.” She watched his face fall when he picked up on what she wasn’t saying. 

“Did he try to-?” He cut himself off, unsure of how to phrase his question or simply not wanting to say it but found himself muttering curses under his breath when all he got was a grim smile in return. If it had got that bad again and he hadn’t been there for him, instead allowing him to believe he was dead at his hand. He swore at his own stupidity and what his actions had nearly led to. 

“So why now?” Natasha cut off his musings.

“Sorry?” He asked, looking startled.

“Why call us now? You said you need our help; something must have prompted you to call us after all this time.” She once again stomped down on her emotions, changing the subject rather than go over what was said and done. She saw the moment his confusion cleared and the worry she had spied in his eyes flared up again. 

“Fury reassigned me to a mobile command unit, leading a field team to investigate events as they happen. There’s a new girl we picked up along the way, she isn’t an agent, isn’t even S.H.I.E.L.D. She went in after a hostile alone after a FUBAR mission and ended up getting shot, there’s nothing that the doctors can do.” She saw the grief in his face and knew how much this girl must mean to him. 

“Shit, Phil, I’m sorry.” Her eyes were crinkled with concern as she looked at her old friend. She knew his belief and trust in his people were some of his best qualities and she knew how deeply she cared having seen one too many times his worry when one of them got hurt. She could tell right away how much being unable to save her was affecting him and wanted nothing more than to pull him into a rare hug. 

He carried on. “However, there was a drug used in my treatment that we think could help. It’s a long shot but its only hope. The only issue is that Fury seemed to get some slightly dodgy people involved and it seems to be entirely off book. The only things we have been able to link to it are Karsa Lakatos and some promising looking co-ordinates.”

“Lakatos?” Her surprise was evident in her voice. He was the last person she expected to be involved in anything even remotely related to S.H.I.E.L.D. given his strong hatred for the organization and everything it stood for. 

“Unfortunately.” Coulson only knew the vague details of the history between the pair, but he knew enough to guess that she would be less than pleased to hear of him again. “We were hoping you might be able to get round to him, get him to tell us some more about this drug and where to find it. Not to mention we have no idea what could be waiting for us at the location and if it turns south your skills would be much appreciated. Both your skills” He added, glancing at the doorway Clint had left through. 

She sighed. “I’ll go talk to him; he might come around but it’s a yes from me. But Phil, you’ve got a lot of making up to do if he even agrees to come anywhere near you. And I want the full story of just what exactly Fury said to you, don’t think you’re off the hook just yet.”

“Of course, Natasha. Thank you. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. There was no excuse for taking Fury’s word as the truth and I’ll do everything I can to try and make it up to you both. I’ll phone you back in a bit, we’re due to fly over New York in a few hours anyway so you’ve got time before we need to know if we’re landing or not.” He smiled at her, his lips quirking up for the first time as her gaze softened slightly as she nodded.

“Oh, and Natasha?” He asked, continuing when he got a cocked head in response. “Can you not tell the others yet? I want to tell them myself, break it to them gently otherwise I’m slightly worried we might have a furious Stark marching up to Fury and doing something stupid.” His words made her snort, but she could easily see that happening, the billionaire was hardly known for being the most rational of people. 

“Of course, but tell them soon yeah? I understand you weren’t aware of it before but now that you are, they really do need to know.” He nodded and she continued. “Talk to you in a bit then, Sir.” She said, watching the agent nod goodbye before closing the connection. 

She sighed and flopped down into the sofa, the surrealness of the conversation fading slightly now she was no longer being assaulted by the face of the previously thought dead man. The TV changed back to the movie library they had been flicking through before, wanting to watch a film on their day off to honour the long-standing ritual and sighed, knowing how difficult the upcoming conversation had the potential to be. Unwilling to put it off any longer she brushed off the remaining crumbs of popcorn and headed up towards the communal floors to find her partner.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a shorter one because this seemed like a good place to stop but I can promise there are longer ones on the way. Trigger warnings for mild language and some slight references to past suicide attempts. Enjoy and subscribe to see when I post a new chapter or leave a comment to make my day.

After half an hour of searching, Natasha admitted defeat. She had checked everywhere from the archery range to the communal floors and without the help of Jarvis, she was struggling to track her partner down. 

"Jarvis, where is Clint?" She asked again, not really expecting a different answer than the other times she had asked. 

"Agent Barton does not wish to be disturbed and as such has asked me not to disclose his location." The AIs tone implied he was not too happy about that fact either. 

She gave the ceiling a look. "J, you saw him earlier, do you really think he should be alone right now?" She queried. There was a pause before she got an answer. 

"Agent Barton is in the vents. However, due to privacy mode being enabled, I am unable to tell you any more information about his whereabouts." 

She groaned, leaning back on a wall and banging her head against it in despair. She had had a growing suspicion of his whereabouts for a while but was desperately hoping she was wrong. It would take her time that she didn't have to search all of the vent system, particularly if he knew she was looking for him. She cut Jarvis some slack, knowing there was nothing more he could do if Clint had privacy mode on and that, as the AI had explained many times, only Tony himself could give the order for Jarvis to override it. Whilst the high privacy and security systems usually made her feel safer in the place she called home, she was currently cursing them. She could always go and ask the engineer, knowing that he would, without a doubt, override the protocol for her if she asked. Past experiences had made them all a bit cautious when the archer locked himself away. But then she also knew the man would be unable to resist going digging and it would only be a matter of time before he found out about Coulson. 

"Damnit Clint" She whispered, closing her eyes against the bright glare of the sun gleaming in on her face through the windows. Her search had led her to one of the communal kitchens, currently deserted as she leant on the grey wall facing the wall to ceiling windows. 

Just as she was about to head to Starks lab, Coulson be damned, a muffled rattling floated across the kitchen to her ears. Brows knitting, she looked up around the kitchen; her hand drifting towards the hidden weapons cache that was disguised next to her. The noise continued for a few moments more before her eyes honed in on the chrome vent cover and she pushed off the wall. 

“Clinton Francis Barton get your arse out of that vent right this instant or so help me god I will make you.” She covered up the cracks in her voice with anger, nearly growling at the wall and surprising even herself with the force behind the words. 

The steady movement in the vent stopped for a moment before moving closer again, the specially designed flip cover nearly flying off the wall with the force it was banged open. The archer gracelessly tumbled out, landing on his feet more from luck than intent and causing Natasha’s worry to intensify sharply. Normally, her partner radiated grace with each and every step, his former gymnast training inherently obvious. She’d seen him perform better landings concussed and on three days of no sleep. One look at his haggard face confirmed her fears. His eyes were red and his hair ruffled as if his fingers had been through it repeatedly. It was only half an hour since she had last seen him yet he looked suddenly exhausted; as if all the energy had been sapped by the air of unease that surrounded him. 

She moved to wrap him in her arms, stopping in surprise when he took a panicked step back. Her arms dropped to her side. Her eyes, wide and bright, roamed over his face once more. 

“Clint.” Her voice caught and face crumpled as she felt the true rush of her emotions, the hastily built walls falling down around her as she stared into her partner’s face. 

Her vision suddenly swam, legs turning heavy and ears ringing as she felt herself sway unsteadily where she stood. She reached out blindly for the counter as it worsened only to feel herself be wrapped up in her partner’s arms. She felt limp against his chest as she had the slow realisation of what was happening. The sudden plunge in her blood pressure was indicative of one thing only, she was losing control of her programming. The suppressed conditioning of her time in the Red Room; the remains of the monster they had made her into. The stress of the day and sudden rush of emotions had awakened the mindless assassin inside of her. It was a rare occasion nowadays, but apparently not rare enough. 

She was distantly aware of being lowered to the ground as the blinding panic hit her. She fought weakly in his grip, the feeling of her mind being ripped from her grasp assaulting her. Hyperventilating, the terror clear in her wide eyes, she fought back desperately, pushing against the foreign presence in her mind as she clung onto the sound of Clint’s panicked voice above her, grounding her where she lay. 

It took a minute but, eventually, her efforts paid off, the suffocating sensation retreating back to the dark hole where it hid. She lay there, trembling as the adrenaline faded from her system and she felt the heated tiles of the kitchen against her back once more. A wave of exhaustion hit her as she opened her eyes that she didn’t remember closing to see Clint’s face wavering above her. A quiet apology slipped out of his mouth as he grabbed her hand tightly, his calloused palms squeezing her delicate but no less deadly fingers. The trembling ceasing at last, she slipped into the arms of the blackness that fell across her vision, her tightly held body practically melting into the tiles as she succumbed to sleep. 

* * *

Awareness came slowly, her throbbing head pulling her out of the comfort of sleep. Her thoughts were slow and staggered as she woke up much slower than anyone in her profession ever should. It was only when the sound of voices floated to her ears that her mind was dragged out of sleep and she realised the true potential for danger her situation had. She felt like she had been drugged, her limbs feeling heavy and her mind both sluggish and ridden with gaps. She had no idea how she’d gotten here, the last thing she remembered was being in the kitchen. The sudden realisation hit, she’d lost control on her programming. The creature Clint had nicknamed The Widow had tried to make a break for freedom. 

The voices she was hearing became clear in her mind; it was only one voice - Clint. It sounded like he was talking to someone, a hypothesis made clear when she cracked her eyes open slightly, peeking out slightly whilst still keeping the facade of sleep. 

Her partner was facing away from her, perched on the edge of the bed, hair still ruffled and finger twirling in the tassels of an old hoodie from his early shield days. His shoulders were hunched and his other hand was clenched around her phone that he held against his ear. She could only hear his side of the conversation but she knew near immediately it was Phil he was talking to. 

“Yeah, we’re both fine, she’s still sleeping it off and the Widow didn’t even come out for me to get hurt.” His reply sounded short, the tense tone mimicking his posture.

Only a few seconds later he cut off whatever their old handler was saying. “Look, Phil, you said you needed help. Something must have happened for you to contact us now and something is obviously going on with you, so spill.” She watched her partner as he listened to the older man’s tale, as his hand slowly moved from the tassels of his hoodie to rubbing his forehead. 

“Lakatos?” He seemed just as surprised as her to hear that news, though he sounded significantly more unhappy about it. Despite never having met the man, Clint seemed to have developed an alarming amount of hatred towards him. 

He sighed, running his hand down his face. “I’ll help. But not for you, I’ll help for the girl”. There was a pause. “I’m still mad at you Coulson, but it would be wrong not to help her when she’s had nothing to do with it. I can’t sit here and leave her to die when she can’t be blamed for your fuck ups.” Natasha felt a surge of relief at his agreement. She would have liked to say that she always knew he would help, but then she would be lying. Clint was well within his rights to refuse, to hang up and never speak to the man again. The other man had hurt him, yes, but at the end of the day, he was still the first person Clint had trusted in a long time. They had been a family more than a team and to lose a part of that family had been a shock to them both. Even if Clint could stop blaming himself for just one of the deaths he felt he’d caused, then it would be worth him accepting their old handler back into their lives. 

“Right, we’ll see you then. Yeah, that’d be great. Cheers, Phil.” He pulled the phone from his ear as the call ended, staring at the screen blankly as if what had just happened was only just sinking in. She spoke up before he could get any further. 

“Phil?” She hated how rough and tired her voice sounded. Her partner whipped around in surprise, barely saving himself from falling off the edge of the bed. She smiled.

“Some assassin you are.” Her wisecrack went unnoticed as he searched her face. 

“How are you feeling?” She would have rolled her eyes at his question if she didn't think the motion would make her throw up. 

Her response was automatic. “Fine.” The look on his face told her what he thought of her answer. She sighed.

“Get me some water and ibuprofen and I’ll certainly be a lot closer to it.” Her statement did nothing to alleviate the worry in his eyes even as he gestured to the bedside cabinet in response. She shifted over to it and took the two small painkillers before proceeding to chug the entire glass of water. She looked up to see his eyes hadn’t strayed off her. 

“You haven't had one of those in a while.” A noncommittal hum was all that he got in response. “6 months in fact.” His voice was gentle but probing. She gave him a look.

“Nat, you can’t just brush this off. Are you gonna be okay to do this?” She started pushing herself up off the bed even if just to shut her partner up. 

“Watch me. And you’ve seen me fight whilst injured in every way imaginable, I don’t think a little headache is going to stop me. Also, you can hardly lecture me, you’re not looking too hot yourself.” She replied. She was starting to get a little snippy with her partner and it was showing in her tone.

He shifted across the bed to join her where she was now sitting up. “I meant with the widow.”

“It will be fine. I know what I’m doing, Clint.” He didn’t look convinced but went with it all the same. “Who called who?” She asked, nodding towards the phone. She bit back on the ‘are you okay?’ that threatened to escape, already knowing her efforts would be futile.

He passed the phone back to her as if only just remembering he still had it. “Your phone rang, it was a Shield number, so I answered it. I didn’t expect it to be... Him.” She took the phone off him, glad to see her hands had stopped shaking so much. They answered each other’s shield calls all the time; they mostly were for the both of them anyway but Coulson used to have his own contact. Still did actually, she had never been able to bring herself to delete it. It made sense for him to be ringing from a different number though, if he was meant to be dead Shield would have had to reallocate his old number for appearance’s sake.

“Yeah, he said he was gonna call me back, check if he was stopping or not. How far away is the plane?” She asked. She had already fixated on the idea of a nice strong coffee and was just hoping she’d have enough time to enjoy it.

“‘Bout an hour.” She can’t have been out for that long then, she thought. Also, plenty of time for a coffee She pushed herself up carefully, watching out for any grey encroaching on her vision but glad to see the swan-dive her blood pressure had taken hadn’t left lingering effects. She’d looked to the side to see Clint was still watching her, a crease in his brow and slight frown across his face. 

“I’m fine.” She reiterated, making shooing gestures with her hands. “I’m going for a coffee and then to pack and you, Clint, need to go for a shower. You’ve been crawling around the vents and Tony will kill you if you traipse muck around the tower again.” He nodded, looking down at his clothes and picking at a piece of fluff he’d picked up along the way as he rose off the bed. 

Jarvis opened the lift doors automatically, already having it ready for them. He dropped Clint off at his floor before taking her up to the main floor where the good coffee machine sat. She had one on her own floor granted, but this one held the Good Coffee. Stark had designed it himself and whilst she would normally settle for the still very expensive machine on her own floor, today had been a Good Coffee kind of day. She leaned on the counter, sipping the drink with her hands wrapped around the cup, making the most of the warmth radiating off of it. 

She sat there for a while, talking lightly with Jarvis before she looked at the time. Nerves fluttered in her stomach and she sighed gently. It was time to go face Phil.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed then follow to see where I'm going with this and leave a comment to tell me what you think, constructive criticism is always more than welcome.


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